


Small Imperfections

by positive_negative1



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: But also, Depression, Discussions of Suicide, Drug Use, Elijah Kamski & Gavin Reed are Half-Siblings, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Gavin Reed Being an Asshole, Lovers To Enemies, M/M, Murder (!?), Nightmares, Oh this is gonna get angsty, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Serial Murder, Slow Burn, also the character death comes later so i apologize in advance, also tina is a legend, gavin is bi in my eyes so suck it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:47:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27338143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/positive_negative1/pseuds/positive_negative1
Summary: There’s a time for caring, there’s a time for upholding a carefully created persona. It’s not like Gavin knew the difference. Life went on in the Reed household, with just the gentle changing of the seasons to denote any deviation from the persona.Until a late night in August. Then, as we’ll see, it all changed.
Relationships: Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed
Comments: 3
Kudos: 27





	1. Endless and Artificial

**Author's Note:**

> A first foray into the life of a fanfic writer. This is the first of many hours of work, time, writing and music. To the people who have supported me thus far, I appreciate you all so much more than words can describe. I hope you enjoy, and thank you for reading. Chapter two...well, it's a work in progress. Have a listen to some New Order if you want to get a vibe of the next chapter.
> 
> Peace, love and ice-cream,
> 
> Positive.

### Chapter One - Endless and Artificial

To explain the enigma that is Gavin Reed, we only need to look his apartment, in all it's calm glory.

Unwashed dishes fill the sink, last nights food clinging on. Plants, curling their way under the window, flood the room with purple subtlety. Old video game posters coat the walls, encased in frames, with only the light fading to show their age. The sofa looks out over the city below, blankets folded on the arm, grey contrasting with the red. 

Over in the bedroom, a king sized bed takes up most of the space, cause it's not like a detective's salary can cover for a large bedroom. It's messy, but just like home. String lights adorn the walls, illuminating the photos Gavin keeps hidden from visitors on his side table. His graduation day, the last photo he had with mom, and the last photo he took with Hank, before, well that isn't important right now, as Gavin would normally say. 

Our story starts with chili.

The door opens, and Gavin walks through to the living room, bags in hand, arms aching from the weight. Dropping the bags onto the kitchen table, and sorting the groceries, his mind races from the events of earlier in the day, with the chase still on his mind. The ice-cream is in the freezer, the tomatoes out on the side for later, knives and pans shining on the shelves. 

Dicing the onions, with some oil sizzling in the pan, he looks over to the side for the chili. It's not there, there's just the beans and the tomatoes. He checks the fridge, but only the meat and leftovers stare back at him. **Fuck.** "How do I forget the one thing I need for my chili? Very clever Gavin, very clever,'" he mutters to himself, turning down the temperature on the stove. "Guess I gotta run out then."

Gavin grabs his 'famous' leather jacket (as Tina so affectionately calls it), and closes his door behind him. He can smell the coffee that Connor spilled on it earlier in the day, his brown eyes, confused and wide, rushing to apologize silently. Androids, especially one as smart as Connor, can't have the ability to spill something, right? Eli can't have forgotten that. Maybe it's the deviancy, after Connor deviated with Markus, he is now more human, in all our weird and clumsy ways.

As he leaves the high-rise, and steps out onto the street, Gavin watches the few people wandering the streets, brightly clothed, pinpricks of hope and laughter in an otherwise urban cityscape. The lights of the street, cascading shadows on his face, illuminate the path in front of him, orange and yellow hues swirling over the trees. 

He walks down the street, taking in the air around him. Ever since the city went on the clean energy drive years ago, the air has been cleaner, more alive, despite it being nothing but nitrogen and oxygen. The air is cold, not cold enough for condensed breath, or whatever it's called. There's probably a name for it somewhere, not that Gavin can be bothered to fumble around with his phone, he has a herb garden to get to after all. Nothing like a cooling pool of oil in a pan to invigorate a man, a tired one at that. It's been a long day, the reasons why already obvious. Obnoxious bosses, whatever the hell is up with Connor spilling coffee on him, the chase, the thrill. The adrenaline coursing through him, breath heavy, eyes wide. Life doesn't get its meaning until it on the table, ready to be messed with. It is in that that Gavin finds his meaning, to protect those closest to him.

Will he ever say this to anyone? Of course not, he has a reputation to maintain after all. 

The soft reflections from the metal fences catch the corners of his eye, glimmering like the moon on a rainforest, sliver seizing an opportunity to be seen. Gavin comes here often, to...relax. Get his mind away from the chaos of life at the DPD, as much as he loves it. The smell of the herbs overtake the cigarette smoke, the greenery a welcome addition in a dull place, with only the neon of the lights to contrast it. It's calm, peaceful, somewhere to be alone, to be himself.

Opening the gate into the garden, Gavin takes a moment to take it all in. The garden is a different place during the night, with the soft purple grow lights allowing Gavin to see the chili plants at the back of the garden, red plants turning purple with the light. Gavin spends months growing them, cultivating them, pulling out the weeds, all that jazz. It gives him something to do, get his mind away from anything bothering him, consuming his mind. Video games are always going to be the first port of call, why wouldn't they be? Yet times come where they aren't what Gavin needs, not a good enough distraction.

In the shed, he grabs the scissors and heads back outside. The chili's are ripe now, after a while of careful growing, careful birth through the ground into something useful. What a perfect time to forget something he needs for cooking, after months of caring for plants, eh? Gavin finds caring for them therapeutic, it gives his hands something to do, to stop him from fidgeting, picking at his nails. The smell of the earth beneath him, pure and unfiltered, the flashes of silver metal reflecting the light of the sun in the morning talk to him, help him, soothe him. He cuts the chilis off the stem.

"Shit, I should have brought a bag," Gavin mutters to himself, sarcastic voice teasing him, "I've really hit the whole intelligence thing straight out of the park today, doing well on that front."

He stands back up, after kneeling in the soft earth, his knees coated in a thin layer of dirt. Pocketing the chilis in to the soft leather of the worn jacket, Gavin brushes off the dirt, noting the small brown patches that he'll need to wash out. The summer sun should dry it fairly quickly, the heat might warm it a little. It's a cool night, and Gavin wants something to warm him up, a little, so naturally his mind wanders to the warmth and comfort that chili provides. 

Late night trips to the shops, and long winding walks are not uncommon in Gavin's household, not that there is anyone _but_ him at home. The parks give him some peace, and it's lucky to even get some when you look like you could kill a man. Headphones in, music playing, mind clear. Clear of all the stress of work, his non-existent love life and friendships that come few and far between.

He's alone, just how he likes it.

His phone rings in the back of his jeans, with the tranquil tunes of randomly selected ringtone choices at 2 AM. 

It's Tina. 

"A little late to be calling-" Gavin thinks to himself, "she's normally asleep by now." Unless she's somehow on a date that he hasn't heard her gossip about, an unlikely scenario, so he has no idea why she's calling him now. Nevertheless, he taps the answer button, and puts the phone up to his ear. 

"Gavin, you gotta get here, Fowler wants us on this murder. I need you here," Tina says, breathlessly and rushed. Maybe she ran to the scene. It has got to be important, especially if she needs him there.

"Tina, you gotta slow down, I can't understand a fucking word you're saying,"

"I'll send you the location, just hurry your ass up and get here, please," 

"Fine, you gotta explain what's happening when I get there, okay?" Gavin says, lowering his voice. He always seems to get loud when on the phone with Tina, maybe it's her infectious laughter. That's not important now, he just needs to get to the scene. The fact that Fowler is there has got to mean something, maybe somethings happened to someone important.

He ends the call, as usual, with a simple thanks. That's all the people he cares about can expect from him, a man with a reputation to maintain should obviously be curt in ending something. Fowler normally get somes snarky comment about late nights and phone calls, but I'll let you imagine how that goes, dear reader. It's shocking that Gavin hasn't been suspended yet. Then again, he's a much better detective than he gives himself credit for, which tends to cover for his actions. 

Placing the scissors back in the shed, he gives the garden a final once over. The lights spilling their purple over the plants, the string lights illuminating the area with a soft yellow glow is the background for Gavin as he starts walking back to his apartment. It could fit in a cyberpunk movie, the garden backlighting his figure.

He takes a glance down at his watch, it's late, to no surprise. 11:49pm.

And he crashes into someone. 

Barely getting a word in edgeways, Gavin slips out a small apology and starts sprinting back to his apartment. It's dark, but not dark enough for him to notice something about the person he crashed into. It's an android, with the best god damn hair he's ever seen. But Gavin realizes something, something seemingly small, but with repercussions he couldn't have imagined.

The android's hair is endless and artificial, infinite and electronic. It doesn't exist, it was endless. It doesn't exist, it was artificial. It isn't like a human's hair, where cutting it is a thing that requires thought. It is endlessly replaced. It is artificial, in the way that can only be designed in a lab.

As Gavin runs into the apartment block, only stopping at the base of the stairs to catch his breath, he looks back, for no other reason than to see the android's hair again.

"Why the fuck am I looking back? It's just hair," Gavin reflects, starting to run up the stairs. It's a pity his building doesn't have any elevators, he could do with them.

He makes his way up to the top of the stairs, and fumbles to get his keys out of his pocket, when Tina messages him. The buzz of Gavin’s phone is an all too familiar sensation, with Tina messaging him every other day with some comment about rude people on the street or how the lights look at night. 

_Here's the location dumbass. Where the hell are you?_

Gavin smiles to himself, and opens the door. His badge and gun are over in his bedroom, as normal, waiting for a new day to be used. Walking over, Gavin spots the cold oil in the pan, contemplating when he's actually going to be able to make the chili, to feel the warmth again. He pulls the chilis out of the jacket pocket and throws them on the side, a small smile tugging at his lips. 

Holstering his gun, and looping his badge on his jeans, Gavin takes one last look at the apartment before rushing out to see Tina.

It is going to be a long night.


	2. Blue Monday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michi. Cool, calm, a person capable of beating the shit out of you. A protector, a violent spark. A leader, a fearless one at that.
> 
> Who is Michi? 
> 
> Who are they going to be?
> 
> What are they going to do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloha everyone!
> 
> Welcome to chapter two, where we meet Michi! Michi is a character I've grown to love, so much, and trust me, we're gonna be seeing a lot more of them as the fic goes on. Keep an eye out for the colours as we go on, cause there might be some stuff hidden for you guys to find. Again, thank you all so much for the support, the kind words and the motivation, it truly does mean the world. Stay kind to each other. Chapter Three is gonna come, at some point, just hold on.
> 
> Gold, Red, Blue and Yellow,
> 
> Positive

### Chapter Two - Blue Monday

##### 3 Years Earlier

"Tina, make sure you stay on the line with me. If anything goes wrong, I can't be in here alone. Understand?" Gavin says, pocketing the fake drugs. He's on a stakeout, for the first time in a while. It's a new day, a new chance to get his work done. He's going in alone, a bad idea in hindsight, yet the Gavin of then doesn't know that. Naive, unknowing, is what he'll call himself in the future, in the few times he mentions this night and the events that surround it. 

His car is dark, with the console lit red, for apparent safety in a night of danger. The earthy and deep aroma of coffee fills the car, reminding Gavin why he has to be awake, why he has to do this. The tendrils of frost wind their way around the car windows, framing his face to the outside world. Gavin Reed, coffee-filled detective with a few too many scars to be considered normal. Gavin Reed, man with too many secrets. 

The center console shines bright, the lights glowing in the dark, casting too little of it to show up on his face. Gavin's playlists are always far too long to be played to their full while he waits on a stakeout, too loud, too much like him. He steals his music taste from his mom, with her playing music all throughout his childhood. Rihanna, Nirvana, MCR. The old stuff, Joy Division, New Order, Sex Pistols. Radiohead, Kasabian, even Taylor Swift.

He's a mish-mash of them all, creating a music taste with something for everyone, and no-one. What music does he show his friends? What music does he keep a secret for dark nights? What will his persona let him do? 'Blue Monday' by New Order plays softly on the radio, a song reminding him of Sunday mornings with Eli, eggs frying in the pan, mom yelling at them both to stop messing around and to sit down. He misses that, but he has work to do. Operations to stop.

"Tina I'm heading in, wish me luck," Gavin says, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He knows he is making a bad decision.

"Keep me updated,"

"I will-" he says, hands shaking a little,"please don't worry about me."

He doesn't keep her updated. She cries herself to sleep.

The door to the house is too old to be anything but a din of crime. The red ice epidemic is still seething underground, even after the few years of relative peace and quiet, thanks to the task force Hank led. He hears them inside, chatting, about whatever, cooking up a new batch. It's peaceful to them, at least before Gavin knocks on the door. Gavin is lucky enough to have gained the trust of them, his charisma being a benefit this time, unlike when he's back at the station. His charisma back there makes him a smooth-talking, dirty-mouthed son of a bitch. Nobody likes him for it, but would he change it?

Not in a million years.

He knocks on the door, mustering enough courage to knock with some semblance of purpose, but with enough apprehension to denote his fear. Gavin is always scared while undercover, his mind flooding with ideas of every possible outcome. It's the fear of death that gets him riled up inside, the thought that it can all end in a moment. A shot to the heart, a crack in the skull. That's the end of Gavin Reed, an inconsequential life. Who will attend his funeral?

Who attended Hank's funeral?

It opens, and a pale-faced person stares back at him. Their eyes are wide, bloodshot. Hair unkempt, if a little greasy. A red ice user, with all the obvious signs of being one. Gavin looks down, where the patches of red shine back at him, taunting him with their knowledge of what he's getting himself into. 

"What do you want?" they ask shakily, apprehension shadowing their face. 

"Here to see Michi,"

"Why would they want to see you?" they say, leaning against the door-frame for support. "You aren't someone they've talked about. You...wait...of course! I remember you, you're the one with the scar. Michi mentioned you. You're Gavin, right? Why are you here?"

"Here to see Michi actually, like I mentioned," his eyes pricking with nerves. He has to keep it up, keep it up, keep it up. Be who he needs to be. Who does he want to be? 

'Ohh, come in!' 

They slide the door closed behind them both, as Gavin walks into the din of it all. It's better than he anticipated. It isn't something he can't handle, right? In retrospect, Gavin regrets the shit out of this. He has the option leave Michi and run. 

He doesn't.

In any terms, he passes by the hundreds of thousands of dollars of red ice laying on the table, another taunt from the life of crime he left. It's so easy for him to slip back, arms outstretched into the hug of addiction. A stifling, suffocating hug. Too tight to slip out, too tight to slip beneath. Too tight to breathe. Gavin takes a breath, calming his increasing heartbeat. He can't afford to be nervous here. Not now, not when Michi needs to agree to this. Be undercover, stay silent. Be himself, but different. Don't let anything slip, don't let anything compromise the mission. No relationships.

No relationships. Andrew is cute, but no. Avia is exactly his type, no relationships. 

He is so alone in this world. Tina is a friend, and only a friend. Charlie died in his arms. Hank died. Who else dies, like Icarus floating beneath the burning sun? Who catches him, back arched as he hurtles toward the stifling sea? Who heals the burns he leaves himself with? Who's there for him in the end? 

The stairs creak beneath his weight, as he climbs the stairs. Michi is above him, plotting whatever it is they plan to do next. Maybe expansion, maybe something else, maybe the end of Gavin's life. He had to stop whatever it was, before it ruined more people It was the least he could do after Charlie died. It was the least he could do to stop the violence surrounding his life, his home, the people he cares about. Reaching the door, Gavin rests his hand on the handle. Smooth porcelain meets calloused skin like an old friend. Imperfections on porcelain. Hands shake, fear and apprehension bubbling beneath the surface. Gavin can hear them packed inside, hushed breaths and careful words. None of them trust each other, their guns fitted with silencers in their back pockets. Gun metal and denim, a fitting combination for them all. Rough and smooth, fear and paranoia. 

He heads inside, and sees Michi in all their terrifying glory. The trust is still there, after many months of small favors and protection. He can't blow this now. 

"Hello Michi, it's good to see you again," Gavin asserts, his fear a tangible seed in his mind. 

"Gavin, why are you here? Who let you in? If it was Schwartz, I swear to God. He...Gavin, close the door behind you," they say, with the grace of a ballerina, a bad one. Michi's dark brown skin contrasts against the white of the walls as they turn to face Gavin. His apprehension bubbles brighter beneath his skin. 

He knows Michi from way back when they were both in school together, sat in trig class, or whatever it was. Sort of friends, sort of something else. It all fizzled out a long time ago, just the whispers of a missed connection to show how they still feel. Gavin is everything to Michi, and Michi is everything to Gavin. Not now though, back then, back with the long days of class and bad haircuts. Back with innocence. Innocence shatters when you're stood in the same room as someone you knew as a teenager, both of you going very different ways in life. Drug dealer, recovered addict. Friend, lover. Teenager, adult. Time shifts in the sands of the universe, pulling everyone along with it, gold sand pulling everyone down. A strangling force.

"It wasn't Schwartz, and I'm here to ask you for a favor," Gavin replies, and it isn't a favor, it is a trap. Carefully planned, carefully executed, if he can pull this off.

He doesn't.

Charisma can't get him everywhere in life. Not when Michi seems hellbent on expanding, the red tendrils pulling people beneath the surface of addiction. Michi's face swells with hope and anticipation, their dark eyes glancing over everyone. It's a pity if someone now were to betray them, progress becoming futile at the single pull of a trigger. A cut to the tendrils of progress, gold dragging them into death. The strangling cry returning. 

"What's the favor? And don't pull any funny shit Gavin, I'm not in the mood," 

"Can you meet me at Context on Friday? The dealers from Philadelphia are up for bargaining," Gavin says, almost mumbling, his fear dampening his voice.

"Keep the persona up Gavin, keep it going, you have to," he thinks to himself. 

"Calm down Gavin, I know when you're nervous, the dealers from Philly know what's up with me. They won't hurt you, trust me," they reply, stepping forward. What is Michi doing? Michi's eyes glower with something sinister. What are they planning?

"I'll take care of you,"

"Michi, this isn't high school anymore, you know that," Gavin sneers, and the others in the room take this as a cue to leave. Michi is a scary one when faced with opposition, even from Gavin. Yet he is correct, even if Michi doesn't see it. This isn't high school anymore, Gavin isn't his young self anymore. Michi isn't there to help him anymore. "You can't protect me now, Michi," 

Now that everyone is out of the room, Gavin paces over to the windows, where the curtains are drawn. His olive eyes scan the rest of the room, Michi by the table, the money from last week's deal shining back at him, like the drugs downstairs. Both of them are an addiction, the endless highs of red ice drawing him back, red tendrils seething. Money. An endless race. Endless luxury, money buying him power in this world. 

"Gavin Reed, shut your mouth before I beat the shit out of you,"

"I-"

A punch, filled with the longing of the past, lands square in Gavin's face. A second. A third. What in the fuck is Michi doing? Gavin staggers back, hips connecting with the windowsill. Blood slowly drips. Drip, drip, drips. A swift kick sends him flying to the floor, the gold flecks in Michi's eyes following him as he falls. Icarus, bloody and bruised, eyes open to the world around him. Icarus, bloody and bruised, laughing in the face of the snaking fear in his veins. Gavin drinks this in, artificial emotions baring fruit. 

Eyes burn. Blood drips, red tendrils of progress snaking through him.

Gavin has no idea what happens next, just the hysterical laughter of Michi above him. Is this catharsis? The years of lost emotions boiling over? His artificial emotions are ready, ready to be used. Walls hiding his true emotions, the emotions of tears, apprehension and fear. They aren't used. Gavin cowers in the corner of the room, blood dripping over his face. A serene image of failure.

The mission is over, cover blown. 

Michi speaks subtly into Gavin's ear, their words saccharine to salt.

"I'll always protect you Gavin,"

"What...the fuck?"

"I'll see you later, my love."

Gavin lies there, beaten, bloody, face a collection of coloured spots. It's a blue Monday, bruises will turn blue, Monday nights roll into Tuesdays.

He doesn't see Michi for another three years.


	3. Ballerina

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To say that losing a childhood friend is anything less than devastating is a lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloha everyone!
> 
> I'd just like to start off with an apology for not updating this sooner. In all honesty, I took a break after chapter two. Anyhow, here is chapter three, where we meet someone, someone important. I thank you all, again, for your support, for the kudos you leave and for everything. This fic also hit 240 reads, which is a lot more than I ever thought my little thing would receive. Thank you, so so much. Chapter 4 will definitely not take this long to update, so expect it soon. There is also a song mentioned in the chapter, and I'll throw the link in the notes at the bottom. I recommend you listen to it as you read, cause god knows I listened to it over and over. But I digress. 
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> Lacerations, Ballerinas and Academies,
> 
> Positive

### Chapter Three - Ballerina

It's the second time in the day that Gavin is running. This time, he runs toward the danger, not away from it. Did he know which he preferred? The chance to catch the one thing he'd been searching her for weeks? Or the new opportunities to help people? The thrill of the chase? It's a complex question, as might appear obvious by Gavin's inability to answer it, even with himself.

Luckily for him, the penthouse (a delightful place for a murder) is 2 blocks out from his apartment, a short run, yet long enough to make him out of breath by the time he reaches Tina. It might have been a good idea not to bring the jacket. But who doesn't love a broken man fixing himself with things nobody else notices. Faded leather on Teflon skin. A scarred nose framing a face shaken by a life that should concern anyone who isn't him. Is it a bad life?

Is it a life he would come to regret? 

The streams of blue and red from the cars outside the apartment block silhouette the people clustered by the door. The ME's, the rest of the detectives, Connor, Tina. This is a lot more important than he anticipated. No wonder Tina is out of breath, Fowler would want everyone on this, even if they have to develop superpowers to do it. Such is the life of a detective, stretching themselves thin to fill in the cracks in the system. As long as there is crime, there would be people to investigate it. And tonight is a night just like any other. 

Walking up to Tina, Gavin is attacked with a hug. An odd choice, considering Tina knows his boundaries. He attempts to slip out of it, duck under her arms, to no avail. He's trapped, a little like before and tenses up, jacket becoming loose as he closes in on himself. At least he doesn't have the drugs in his pocket again. At least he isn't undercover again. He knows all too well how that ends. How one small change in emotions leads to split lips and bruised knuckles. 

At least Hank wasn't there that time, right?

Tina lets go of him, and Gavin breathes a small sigh of relief. Why does Tina hug him now? She's fine with all the blood that usually comes with a murder, they normally go work on the start of a case together, so this shouldn't impact her at all. Something's up. 

"Tina-" Gavin asks, voice wavering just a little. He has to keep his persona up. "the fuck is up with you?" Her eyes, more glassy than aware, tears pricking at the seams, stare at the pools of light behind Gavin. A careful tapestry, woven with the emotions of a thousand torments. Coming apart at the seams, golden threads cascading to the ground. The deep, dark ground. Gold cast on black, moments of fleeting pain thrown into the depths. The ground is a comforting place. The gold a strangling force, a beautiful cry into the eyes of another. 

"Yeah, I'm fine," she says, fighting her tears from falling. "Let's head inside, see what's going on. Ya know, the usual." Tina wipes the corners of her eyes with the soft black fabric of her jumper. She turns to walk in the building, and Gavin catches her wrist, with more urgency than he thought.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I am," 

"I'm here if you need me,"

"Thank you."

That's the way their friendship is. Quiet appreciation for each other, their kind words going under the radar to all but them, small cracks in their personas. Tina is one of a very small group of people that Gavin ever lets his guard down with. He knows the harm he could cause someone, the damage he'd leave. The pieces they'd pick up and rebuild. The life he'd never be able to go back to. A life of problems, dragged out arguments and childhood trauma. The trauma he carries is never his own, he couldn't carry his own. He has people to protect after all. 

He has people to protect, a persona to live behind.

The two of them walk up the stairs, where they're greeted with Connor standing in the door frame of the penthouse. He stands with the bravado of a man who he knew could kill any of them in that moment, but he also stands there with a concerned look on his face. There was something that he can't see yet, something he can't understand.

As he slips inside, submerging himself in the ocean of people, Gavin can only stare at his back. Connor's blue shirt fades to water, LED gliding from a lemon yellow to a cool blue. He's thinking, and slips away more and more nowadays. Clothes becoming darker, eyes wider. Something has changed, not that he would tell anyone. He never tells anyone what went on in his head, he never tells anyone anything. Reclusive, temperamental. Connor is adaptable, shifting everything in his life if he needed to, never if someone told him to. Developed habits, eh? Spending so much time around people that you pick up their traits. The good and the bad. 

Gavin heads in behind him, eyes adjusting to the dim lights. People are everywhere, their hands moving over everything. If the victim was alive this would be classified as an 'invasion of privacy'. Yet they aren't. Their life is on display, secrets illuminated to the world. Nothing was to be left uncovered. How could it be? They were gone, after all. They couldn't say anything, give any response. That's why they had to work, to get something for them, some justice, some little sense of normality in a very abnormal death.

The subtle blue ring of Connor's LED indicate that he's over by the body. It's a stabbing, not uncommon when something needs to be done subtly, a life that needed to be ended with the grace of a ballerina. Tina's face pales, her eyes looking away, down at the floor. She heads over into the kitchen. Somethings up with her. Something she wont tell Gavin. She didn't have to do anything of course, it is her own choice at the end of the day. He'll be there for her, like he was with Hank. But he can't let her slip away. He needs to have control in uncontrollable circumstances. He needs it like plants need oxygen. It's the only thing he has left.

This time, however, the victim is killed with the grace of a ballerina, but not a good one. Something stirs in his mind, vague memories flowing to the surface, bubbling bright with lost emotions. Gavin can't remember, he can't remember, he can't remember. After...the event, he always seeks to repress the memories that plucked at his brain, slowly pulling him apart. Memories in a locked box of ice, flooding him with coldness, only thawing to comfort.

Connor can sense that the pair are in, his eyes scanning over the rest of the people inside, locking onto Gavin. His LED cycles yellow, once, twice, and back to the cool, calculating blue. Under the dark lights of the apartment, his eyes, normally deep brown, seethe with a dark fear. Why is he scared? Why is Tina sad? These are the questions Gavin doesn't want to answer. He is in fear of the truth, for he is in denial of loss. Loss of everything he holds dear to him, his friends, his family (or more accurately, his found family). This is what is within him, encapsulated. His life goals, to protect, to help are the things protecting him from the ice cold of his memories.

As Gavin paces around the scene, his hands lacing behind his back, the carnage becomes apparent. Hands moving over everything, the shards from a dropped glass covering the floor like glitter on a disco ball. Black blood soaking into the carpet. Truly the scene of death, a knife pulling and twisting, blood splattering over the otherwise pristine scene. Darkening blood congealing on the victim's stomach. What a nasty place to be stabbed in, the stomach. It isn't just the stomach that is filled with stab wounds either, it's everywhere. Lacerations litter the body, jagged gashes of messy fighting, a particularly nasty slice tracing their cheekbone. Whoever it is, that being the suspect, really had their work cut out for them. He walks over to the kitchen, where Tina stands, alone, almost swaying. 

"Tina? You okay?" 

Gavin taps her shoulder, and she turns to face him, tears streaming down her face.

"I- It's Sam, she's dead. She's gone Gavin." Tina looks broken, a porcelain doll dropped on a floor, like the glass shards on the carpet. Sam, her closest friend, her confidante, someone she shared bad coffee with on the floor of her apartment. They stay together for Chinese New Year, now that Tina finds it increasingly hard to get back home for any sort of holiday. Gavin talks with Sam at the bar, when the three of them go out for drinks. Sam is gone, body covered in lacerations, life drained. A piece of Gavin's heart shatters in that instant, for Tina, for Sam, for the memories they share.

Gavin embraces her, breaking all of the protocol he ever established. Tina needs this, she needs someone to be there with her, for she lies in a precarious position. She treads the fine line between anguish and anger. It's the least he can do to help, because words fall flat in a time like this. Tina's tears fall onto the soft leather of Gavin's jacket, tracks of emotions and guilt slowly darkening the colour. Gavin looks up, and her head sinks into the crook of his neck, and he eyes Connor, by the body, LED circling a deep mustard yellow. He looks tired, distraught even, and the closer Gavin looks, the more he can see Sam, lying there, blonde hair matted with blood. The old band shirt she wore at home, small scar across the collarbone. It screams Sam, even if he can't see it at first.

"Tina, I've got you, you're safe," Gavin whispers, and his memories of the two of them flood his mind.

Tina Chen and Gavin Reed share the police academy class of 2028, the pair of them joining from different lives, careers, communities. Gavin, escaping his years of addiction, and Tina, escaping her stifling career. They are a pair seemingly out of nowhere, but fit together like love songs and ice-cream. Tina is known for her tenacity, her bravery and her resolve to do what she thinks is right even in the face of danger. Gavin, on the other hand, is known for his caustic personality, his willingness to go into any situation and his incredible detection skills. They are a match made in heaven (or hell, depending on who you ask), and have been working together ever since. Back as a beat cop, they even managed to recruit some of the other officers for a weird ski holiday they all had.

Times were good back then, but this isn't back then, is it?

For now, we have Tina, crying into Gavin's shoulder, as he looks backs at Connor. Life really has a way of changing everything in an instant.

She slowly pulls herself away from the embrace, hands coming up to her puffy eyes. Tina looks younger now, a broken shell of herself, clutching on to her past with nought but her fingertips. But broken things can be fixed, with enough time and effort, and that is effort that Gavin is willing to expend. She is his best friend after all. He will do anything he can to help, even if that means being a shoulder to cry on, or a confidante in the darkest days.

Our Icarus is on his way up, albeit slowly. He'll make it to the sun, right?

He'll solve the case, right? 

It's what he always does, our Gavin Reed. He does what he thinks is the right thing, does right by the people who need him the most.

Now that Tina has cleaned herself up, Gavin whispers to her, "I'm here for you. Okay? Go home, take some time to get your head clear, I'll cover for you,"

"Thank you, really. Make sure they don't hurt her, okay?" Tina says, gesturing over to Sam's corpse, which glimmers in the subtle light, the reflections cascading from the shards of glass like a reflection in water. 

"I will Tina, please trust me on this."

Tina turns to leave, her eyes, more filled with regret and sorrow than anything else, pierce through the thick, dense air of the apartment. Tina is a broken woman, but she is also a woman with resolve, a woman with tenacity, a woman who is stronger than anyone else that Gavin knows. Sam is gone, forever, and Tina isn't there to protect her anymore.

She will get justice for Sam, even if she kills herself trying to do so.

The door closes behind her, leaving Connor, Gavin, and Sam's corpse to pick up these pieces of a case. Gavin returns to pacing around the room, his fingers lacing behind his back again, eyes darting. He paces back over to the corpse, to get a closer look at what he is dealing with. Apart from a mutilated body, there is nothing to make this anything but a normal murder case, as disgusting as that is to imagine. Connor is scanning the body, evident by his eye twitching. Connor is weird like that, his actions sometimes seeming so normal, so perfectly human, but other times, so foreign, angular, unnatural. It might just be these same actions that make him so good at what he does.

Not that Gavin would ever admit to that, that is. He has the persona driving his caustic personality. A perfect match, for a crime scene that would need to be cleaned with caustic soda. 

"Hey Connor, what happened to her?" Gavin asks, voice a little shaky, despite his best efforts to conceal this from anyone. 

"Well, there was quite obviously a struggle, as is evident through the bruises on her neck and hips. The ones on her neck might indicate that she was strangled as well as stabbed, but I'll double check with forensics. The bruises on her hips might be that she was caught, but I don't know if it was from the front or the back," 

"From behind? That explains the glass then, she couldn't have seen it coming, so she was scared and dropped the glass," he replies, gesturing to the kitchen, with its cocktail ingredients still lying there, with the forensics teams dusting for fingerprints. 

Rhubarb and ginger gin, written on the label on the bottle, lies spilt over the marble counter-tops. Fancy. Sam had money, even if she wasn't someone who flaunted it. So, Sam was caught from behind, a coward's move on the part of the suspect. They could have had at least the guts to face Sam as she bled out, given her some compassion in her final moments, instead of leaving her to bleed out, alone probably.

Fucking coward.

"Gavin, what's running through your head? I can do many things, but reading your mind isn't one of them, you know," Connor jokes, and it is in this moment that Gavin is grateful for Cyberlife making these androids have a 'relatabilty' module, or whatever corporate bullshit name Eli cooks up for it. Elijah is good at that, the corporate bullshit. Maybe it's why Cyberlife is as famous as it is. Hot air and sweet, almost patronizing words. 

"The murderer is a coward. Sam didn't see them before she died. You see the bruising on her hips?"

"Yeah,"

"She has to have been caught from behind, right. So the murderer wanted to sneak up on her, instead of just facing her head on,"

"Gavin you're not making a lot of sense to me. Her bruises could have come from anywhere, the front or back. And you see the broken window? Sam dropped the glass when she saw the suspect enter, in front of her. They got in through the broken window by he sink," Connor responds, head cocking to the window. Gavin peers over, eyes drifting from the bottle. A chunk is missing from the window, glass shards not just littering the floor, but littering the sink too. 

This whole thing is a clusterfuck.

Standing up, and with Connor standing up alongside him, Gavin feels more alone than he ever has before. More so then when he watched Charlie die in his arms, gunshot wound blooming like a flower on wet ground. Charlie did not deserve what happened to him, he did not deserve to die, with only Gavin (fellow cop) to comfort him. Gavin has always been good at those, regretted decisions, regretted actions. He shouldn't have let Charlie go in alone, not to mention hank. But this isn't a tale of Gavin's loss, now is it? 

"You know I'm here if you need it, despite out differences, despite our strife. I know you have your problems with me, but there is a time and a place for animosity. This isn't one of those times. You're hurt, and don't tell me you aren't," Connor says, wide eyes watching Gavin.

Gavin's face shifts, almost imperceptibly, to one of compassion. He knows that Connor is right, deep down, but his caustic, acrid persona seethes within him. He needs to keep it up, let the arrogance of it seethe to the top. But he wouldn't do that just yet. That personality comes out later, when the time calls for it. this isn't one of those times where it calls for it. 

"Thank you. I already sent Tina home. Do you know where Fowler is? I gotta make up some bullshit excuse as to why she's gone." 

Gavin and Connor stand there, dark blue forensic lights cascading shadows over scars and brown eyes. Nothing has ever been more perfectly imperfect then the two of them. A man plagued by past, plagued by loss, and Gavin Reed.

"Fowler is downstairs, out by the front. Dealing with some reporters if I remember,"

"The press? Come on don't they have better things to be investigating?"

"This is a pretty gruesome murder you know, Reed,"

"Wow. Never knew that Connor," Gavin remarks, caustic personality, caustic heart coming out to play. 

"I'm funny, I know. I'll see you later."

And with that, Connor walks off, his shoes being careful to avoid the larger shards of glass.

Gavin takes a deep breath, steadying himself in the stench of congealing blood and pretentious gin. He could really do with a drink, but alas, there is a crime scene in need of solving. He paces over to the side of the apartment, near the speaker there, to let the forensics team get to her corpse. A paused song flashes on the speaker. 

Now playing; 

Aequilibrium - Andrey Vinogradov.

He turns it on, whilst simultaneously turning down the volume so it is not much more than a whisper in the din of chaos. It is both melancholic and uplifting, a march into the unknown. 

It is a song to die to.

Fate is cruel sometimes, picking the most perfect times to let someone die, or picking the most inopportune, most horrific times. Today is one of the former. The song fills the room with music to die to, gin on the table after a long day. An hour later, a dead body is found lying on the floor, propped up against the wall. 

What a way to go, eh?

Gavin taps Sam's shoulder, kneeling down one last time, before he stands back up and makes his way over to the door. He peeks behind him, saying a final goodbye to a friend, and action he's done before.

Too many times before. 

Pulling the door open, Gavin makes his way down the stairs. They stink of old cigarette smoke, something Gavin smells regularly. They also smell of perfume, sickly sweet, too pristine for a place like this. Sam had the money to move out of here, but she didn't, instead using her money to make the world just a little brighter for the three of them. Gavin remembers her covering the bar bill on many occasions, usually when Gavin and Tina have too much to drink, and need a bed more than a bill. 

He reaches the bottom of the stairs and bursts out into the open air, eyeing for Fowler. Obnoxious bosses never seem to care where you are, for they will always be in the complete opposite place. The press flood the car park, and the small patches of grass in front of the apartment block are becoming muddy with the shoes wearing down on them. Fowler is nowhere to be seen. 

'Fucking brilliant,' Gavin thinks to himself, as he walks through the crowd, weaving silently, like a snake writing to find its prey. Or to run away from its attacker, whichever you prefer. People seem to just be milling around, not getting anything done. He gets the urge to just scream at them all, tell them to fuck off, to leave him alone, to leave Sam in peace. but, alas, this is not the way of the world sadly.

Fowler spots Gavin's eyes scanning the crowd, and walks over. Considering the amount of time that he has known him, it isn't unsurprising that he knows the way Gavin works, how he tick, tick, ticks. How his eyes shift too quickly between people, checking for danger. If Gavin Reed would ever tell anyone his real middle name , it wouldn't be Austin, it would be danger. Gavin is good at doing that, getting himself into danger. But he always manages to get out of it in the end, even if he loses a bit of himself in the process. Caustic personality, caustic words. Dangerous personality, dangerous heart. 

"Reed? Why are you out here?" Fowler asks, voice becoming smaller to keep the conversation private.

"Tina needed to go home, cause she isn't feeling too good. Probably just needs time off for the night, you get me?" Gavin replies, small hints of flush creeping up his neck out of his fear of being caught in his lie. He is an awful liar, as people have noted.

"Tina has talked to me already, I know why she's actually at home. You don't need to lie Gavin, it isn't a good look on you, you know. Even if you do need it at points to make your job work,"

"Right, sure."

Gavin shifts uncomfortably on the spot. Getting called out like that brings all of his insecurities floating to the surface, lending themselves to acidic, acrid comments. He holds his tongue though this time, considering it is his boss after all, even if he is obnoxious. The flush on his neck flows ever more up his skin, like a marker of a personality driven by fear. 

"Well then, I'm gonna head to the station, see what I can get started on,"

"It's 2 AM Gavin. You've been here for a couple of hours. Go home, get some rest,"

Fowler himself looks tired, eyes creased with lines only given to those with the worst cases of insomnia. 

"Sure thing, captain," he retorts, a hint of humour etching a hole between the thick, stifling air that normally surrounds a crime scene. Gavin knows, and so does the captain a little, that Gavin isn't going to take these words properly. That he'll get to the station, and work until he passes out on the desk, only to be woken up in the morning, usually by Tina with a cup of coffee. 

Fowler nods, and walks away, heading back off to deal with the press, as such is the life of a captain. Gavin, on the other hand, starts the walk to the station. Sam lived close nearby, closer than Gavin ever has. He shucks off his jacket, folding it across his arms. The summer night air warms his skin, a gentle reminder of more pleasant days. He sends Tina a message.

_Hey T, hope you're doing well. I'm heading to the station, I wanna get a head start on this. Talk to you later, and don't drink too much alcohol without me ;) ___

__And sent._ _

__The blue lights of the precinct wash over the night skies, the second home of Gavin pulling him ever closer. He walks up, waiting for the temperamental automatic doors to work in his behalf. Even in the 2030's, people still can't get a door to work 100% of the time._ _

__The lights are dim inside, only a few people still milling around, the android charging dock full of sleeping androids. It's peaceful, for once. The cacophony of people is gone, save for the small movements Gavin can hear from the holding cells._ _

__'Just like home,' he thinks to himself, letting his mind take him to a far away place, the comforting blackness of sleep taking over him as he gets to his desk. You see, Gavin Reed is an idealist, believing the best will come of situations. In this case, that means that he believes he can work with the yawns blooming in his lungs. This is a lie, and he knows it._ _

__As he falls asleep at his desk, jacket serving as a makeshift blanket, a small blue LED watches this unfold from the corner of the room. An android, with endless and artificial hair reflecting the blue lights slightly, takes the scene in, wondering how to help. For you see, dear reader, this android and this human are not as dissimilar as you may think._ _

__He continues checking in on Gavin throughout the night, even stealing a pillow from the break room to support his head._ _

__For you see, this android has a mission._ _

__To protect whoever it is that is asleep on the desk._ _  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Link to Aequilibrium if you want to have a listen!
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/track/4mITwv1MPRqVuADf0A6LXj?si=gGo97rA1S1OnUU6tvqqGmg
> 
> Hope you enjoyed, and have a lovely day!


	4. Technique

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're a sly bitch, you know that, right?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloha everyone!
> 
> Welcome to Chapter 4! We see the start of a relationship, a woman with confidence and drive, warm mornings in Detroit, and a lot of dialogue. I've had a blast writing all of this so far, and I really hope that you are all enjoying it too. The fact this hit 25 kudos and almost 300 reads is amazing, and like always, I can't thank you enough. Comments and kind words fuel me, and I'd love to see where you think this is going to go. Stay safe out there, be kind, it's worth its weight in gold.
> 
> Happy Reading!
> 
> Pillows, confidence and alleys,
> 
> Positive
> 
> PS. The chapter title is borrowed from the album 'Technique' by New Order. I'll throw a link in the bottom for you all.

### Chapter Four - Technique

"Hello Gavin,"

"Morning, asshole,"

"Such kind words. I am truly touched by your interpretation of kindness," the man stood over him replies. Gavin peers up, eyes blinking hard from the harsh white of the fluorescent lights staring down into him like a flashlight in the middle of an interrogation.

Gavin has done many an interrogation in his time, from the murderers to car robbers to everything in between. He's good at it, he knows how to get to the very core of someone. How to grind them down until they are nothing but their guilt, and the fact he can do this, and sometimes enjoys doing this terrifies him. Gavin knows how to cause this destruction, how to become the very thing he is so afraid of, and he can't get away from this. 

Gavin can't move on from the darkness he contains, even in the face of his own adversity.

"How truly kind. Now leave me alone," Gavin replies, caustic persona baring its claws. Keep this up, and Gavin will make a new enemy by the end of the day. It'll be a new record, one to add to a bank of bad memories.

"Alas, detective, that isn't something I can do. I have the files for the start of the Park murders, and as we know, you were on them last night." 

Gavin stares at him, eyes still bleary from his broken sleep. All he wants to do right now is head back to bed. 

"Who put the pillow under my head?" Gavin asks, grabbing it in his hands. It's small and red, and it fits his head perfectly. He's confused, and rightfully so. Why it is even there, who cared for him enough to do that? Who was even there when he fell asleep in the twilight hours?

"That is not important, unlike this case which we should get started on, detective," whoever it is that's speaking to Gavin responds, taking the pillow from his hands. 

"Get some coffee, you look like you need it,"

"Who the fuck are you, politely?"

"Who I am isn't important right now. But, if you cooperate, I'll tell you a little about me. Come on, let's get some coffee,"

"You're a sly bitch. You know that, right?"

The android notes this down, in whatever memory system Cyberlife equip them with. It may be useful information to have for later.

DET. REED: Harsh persona to those he isn't acquainted with.

You may be wondering how the android knows this, considering how the pair of them have barely known each other for five minutes. You see, dear reader, this android is good at spotting people's bullshit, especially after he saw Gavin fall asleep on a desk yesterday. This android can see right through him, a characteristic is sometimes useful, depending on how an investigation goes. 

"That is information I have not been told before, but thank you for your input detective," he retorts rhetorically. It is increasingly fun to mess with Gavin, to get inside his head and to see what makes him tick.

See what makes him so human beneath his stony exterior. 

"Jesus man, could you give a man a little room to wake up first?"

"Regrettably detective, there are more important things to be worrying about than your sleep schedule,"

"Ugh fine, okay. Give me a minute,' Gavin mumbles, voice groggy. He doesn't even know what time it is.

"Hey idiot, what's the time?"

"It's 8:32am detective, you've not been asleep for very long,"

"How the fuck do you know that,"

"That isn't relevant right now,"

"Guess I have a stalker then," he jokes, eyes crinkling at the sides just a little. It's in a weird sort of way, cute? Like a child when they giggle, or how couples walk like each other is the only other person in the world.

'Don't think these thoughts.'

'Do your job.'

Dear reader, that is the internal monologue of...

"Hey what's your name? I should probably know who I'm talking to,"

"My name is Nines,"

"Cool name," Gavin says, as he stands up, hair sticking up all over the place. "Let's get the coffee, then you can run me through the case. Just don't make my head melt."

"I can assure you, your head will not melt. At most, it will cook, like a steak. Please do not ask how I know these things,"

"I'll uh, take your word for it." 

As he says this, the pair of them walk to the break room, in the morning of an August day. It should get very warm, hopefully, because Nines love the summer, at least by his standards. Gavin can withstand the biting cold that normally accompanies the winters in Detroit. But the summers?

Don't fucking ask. 

"How do you take your coffee? Just so I can remember for next time. That reminds me, I'm your partner for this case. I'm not going to be assigned as your partner for now, considering your past and everything,"

Gavin tenses, becoming furtive. This is a topic he very clearly does not want to discuss, yet _Nines_ (or whatever the fuck his name is) just decides to get all his trauma out into the open. 

"Detective?" 

"Just give me a shot of espresso. I need to wake up, and the sweet stuff comes with late night job loads." 

How beautifully sweet, for a sarcastic man.

Nines, as he is now called, pours him an espresso from the machine ahead of him. It is a miracle that Officer Miller even still had it. It's truly saved the sanity of many an officer here, and for that, Nines can't be more grateful. The dark brown of the espresso swirls into the mug, aroma matching the scene they share perfectly. A moment of quiet, like a drip into a pond of tranquility.

"This situation fit's both of us well," Nines thinks to himself, pushing the thought aside when Gavin comes up behind him.

"Did you get a screw loose in there or something? Earth to android man, pick up, it's Houston," 

"I am working at optimal performance detective."

This is a lie, which confuses Nines. Androids shouldn't be able to lie. They aren't programmed to lie. They are programmed to do their job, be obedient. Be exactly who the world needs them to be. But he isn't that right now, his mind is racing, for some reason. Why is his mind racing? Why is it racing? Why? 

DET. REED: A confusing man, keep tabs on why.

"Gonna give me the coffee or not?"

Nines looks down, and the ceramic stares back at him. His hands sense that the coffee (all 60 millilitres of it) has cooled in the time it's taken for him to think. 

"The coffee is cold detective. I apologize, I'll make you a new one,'

"It's fine." 

Why...the fuck is he like this today? 

He puts the machine on again, waiting for the sepia coloured liquid to drip into the new mug he got from the cabinet. It's a basic task, but it's fucking with his brain. Does the detective hold this much power over him? Guess we'll find out later, eh?

"Your coffee, detective," 

"Took you an age, tin can-" He cocks his head to the side just a little, "and yeah, I'm gonna be calling you tin can from now on,"

"I am made of plastic detective, not metal. Metal would be too heavy to allow me to be anything but a pile of nuts and bolts on the floor of the precinct," 

"Yeah yeah whatever," Gavin jokes, "So, the case files?" 

"Right, the files. They're by my desk, we can review them there."

The pair of them walk over to the desk, Gavin with the cup of coffee (if it can even be called coffee) in his hand, and Nines, in a white leather jacket and black shirt, looking more like a domino than anything else. It's an interesting sight, the two of them. Brown jacket, white jacket, black shirt, red flannel. There isn't much else joining them together though, caustic persona, calculating persona.

Oh wait, they both have a persona. Both of which were born out of necessity than anything else. How fitting.

Gavin glances over at Nines' desk, the glass reflecting the lights from the ceiling. It's clean, unsurprisingly, and a little cacti plant sits by the screen of the computer. It's even got a few flowers on it, which gleam with enough volition to soothe him a little. A small jar of pens lies there too, in varying shades. It's sweet, to Gavin, and the files for most of the open cases in the precinct lie on the desk, ready to be solved.

Nines is often handed most of the android related cases in the department, alongside the cases which are going to be a pain to solve. Sam Park's case is going to be one of those, considering the way she died and the press coverage surrounding it already. So the case is passed over to nines, and Gavin, a dream team who've never met before. It is bound to be an interesting case, Nines hopes.

Gavin pulls a chair over from the empty desks in front of Nines, as he takes a seat. Nines pulls the case file open, to a rather delightful image of Sam's mutilated corpse. The autopsy resort is due to come in soon, which should feed into the rest of the investigation.

"Jesus, the photos make it look fucking peachy in comparison to what I saw at the scene. Did you turn up?"

"Indeed I did, I arrived shortly after you. I'm surprised you didn't see me," Nines replies, LED flickering to a short yellow.

"So what does the tin can sat in front of me know that I don't?" 

"Again, I am not a tin can. What I do know is that Sam faced a struggle as she died, she wasn't coerced into doing anything, and she fought bitterly. The attacker is very physically strong, as they had the ability to draw such large jagged gashes into her skin. The ligature wounds on her neck, were done shortly after she died, and the reason for that is still unclear to me,"

"Do you know if Sam knew the assailant in any way? Can you figure that out?"

"I am not a miracle worker, detective Reed, I can only tell you what I know, nothing more."

These words soothe Gavin's anxieties a little, letting him know that he is not incompetent in this situation. The pair share the same playing field, if you will. Nines senses this, picking up on the subtle shift in his shoulders. He assures him that he's the right person for this situation, by widening his eyes just a little. It's calming, in a chaotic situation.

He likes it.

"The case is going to be a fucking complex one, but hey, if the resident robot over here can't help me solve it, nobody else will, right?"

"Right."

Gavin giggles a little at this, at Nines' words. 

"One thing that is interesting to note about the case is the technique in which Sam was murdered. The suspect took the knife, or whatever it is that they used to lacerate her skin, with them. This has to have been calculated, if very messy. I doubt they expected Sam to put up as much of a fight as she did,"

"Did Sam use something to defend herself?" 

"The probability leans towards no, she just used her arms. The slice out of her cheek indicates that she wasn't defending her face. You'd think that defending your face is instinctual, right? As you're being attacked, you'll protect the one thing keeping you alive, but Sam didn't do that. I think she was trying to reach for something. What is was that she was reaching for we don't know yet, it could have been a glass shard, another knife or something completely different. Her body was moved from the spot where she died so it's hard to tell,"

"Damn, she could have saved her life if she got to it in time," 

"Indeed."

Tina enters the precinct, wearing her usual clothes. To an outsider, she seems like just like any other normal person, almost carefree. It's a stark contrast, as one can imagine, between the way she was last night and the way she is now. Her eyes reflect the fluorescence, her lips lie in a thin line. Her eyes were glassy, her lips quivering as she clutched onto Gavin like there was no tomorrow. The differences are stark, but in this case, the differences also make sense. Gotta keep that persona up, no matter the cost to yourself or to others.

What is Tina's persona? How does she shield her true self from the world she is enveloped in?

She makes a beeline for Fowler's office, her steps containing just an air of confidence. She is good at this, portraying confidence she doesn't know she has. The best parts of her are hidden deep within, under her sea of doubts, misconceptions, lost words and echoed lies. Despite her being known for her tenacity and her bravery, she isn't known for her confidence, but in deep, she is a very confident person in both her abilities and her outlook on life. Not everyone gets to see this though, for the cracks in her persona are only saved for a select few. 

The glass goes opaque on the outside, as she pulls the door open and it closes behind her. Whatever it is that she wants to see Fowler about, it's important. Might be the case last night, might be something else. It's hard to tell. Either way, Fowler wouldn't darken the glass unless it's serious. Nines can only imagine what they are discussing as he talks.

"And that's why it was at sunset, not during the dead of night. Gavin are you even listening to me?"

"Huh? Oh yeah of course I am, 100 percent,"

"Why was I talking about sunsets?"

Gavin's faces goes a little red, probably because he isn't listening to a word Nines is saying, his mind more focused on other things, like Tina. Nines notices this, and throws his head back with a small laugh, his eyes never leaving Gavin's face, the glint in his eyes never leaving.

"Right you idiot I'll explain it again. Make sure you listen this time," he says as he slides the case file over to Gavin, simultaneously sliding the photos of Sam's corpse to the bottom. Common courtesy, you know? Seems fitting. 

"So, Sam was at home last night, after coming home from work, and decided to make some gin and tonic, as one can expect after a long day,"

"You saying 'one' when referring to someone is the best thing I've heard all week,"

"Anyway, after whoever it is decided to come in, Sam dropped the bottle of gin on her counter. She was scared, obviously, and fight or flight took over,"

"I already get this, I saw it last night. What are you on about in regards to sunsets? Did something come in, or are you just leading me on a wild goose chase to mess with me?"

"Yes actually, just have some patience, it is a virtue after all. The preliminary report from the ME is back, and they determined the rough time of death to be about 8:30pm, with the body being found at 10:30, a little earlier than originally thought. What's interesting is that the suspect went for the early evening instead of any other time. Normally this kind of time is when people are relaxing, when people are winding down after a long day at work, not when anyone is going to do something. So, whoever it is that killed Sam knew when she would be home then,"

"So she was stalked beforehand?"

"Probably not stalked specifically, but her home was scouted out. The suspect knew her lifestyle, who she was with, when she was home, that kind of stuff," 

"Makes sense, considering that they knew which window to go through, to get to the kitchen,"

"Exactly, and that isn't the only interesting thing. Sam tried to out up some sort of a fight, as she was being stabbed, which might have caused the suspect to panic, and led to them strangling her after she died. A kind of insurance policy,"

"So she was stabbed, to try and get it over and done with quickly, but she fought, so she was strangled even after she died, to make sure. I mean it sounds like a workable theory. Did forensics find the knife, or whatever it is that they used?" 

"No, they took it with them, which makes sense, considering we know that they are relatively calculated," Nines says, leaning back in his chair a little, "They knew what they were doing," 

"Obviously,"

As Gavin says this, the glass door of the office opens again, and Tina comes back out. She looks more resolved than she did when she came in. She carries her head a little higher, her mouth has a small smile. Nines notices this as well, stopping himself from speaking to follow Gavin's gaze. Gavin turns back to him, away from Tina, and notices something.

Nines' eyes are grey. Really really grey.

His eyes are grey like the thunderstorms that used to excite him as child. They are grey like everything and nothing all at once, intertwined in a dance for supremacy between the sky and his skin. It's weirdly beautiful. His eyes are like the sea during the night, the moon hitting it with everything it has, the light reflecting into the earth, becoming at one with itself again.

It's so beautiful.

'What the fuck are you thinking? Stop it,' Gavin reminds himself, drifting his eyes away again.

The soft taps of Tina's shoes get louder and louder as she walks over to the both of them. They turn in their chairs to face her, a little ominously. Her deep-set eyes dart between the two of them, inspecting their faces, their eye movements, the way they slouch and the way their feet lay on the ground. She is analyzing them, why?

"Hey T, how you feeling?"

"I'm doing okay, given the state of everything,"

"Why hasn't Fowler put you on leave? You deserve it, and more importantly, need it,"

"The same can be said for you Gavin, and I didn't want to take it, yet,"

"Why?"

"I need to figure out who did this to Sam, why they did this to Sam, what their motivations are, why they tick,"

"Tina you're not a detective, you can't be on the investigation with us, so what are you planning on doing instead?" 

"Narcotics think that they have a match for some of the stuff that was left at the scene. Red ice,"

"Red ice? That hasn't been around for years," Nines chips in, face becoming a little skeptical.

"That was my initial reaction too. After the gangs around here were shut down, we've seen almost nothing in regards to it. It's been the 'normal stuff' you can say. Crack, heroin, meth," Tina responds.

"So T, now that you're back working in narcotics, you can get access to the scene as well?"

"I can, so I should be able to help from the sidelines,"

"That would be very beneficial Tina, thank you for agreeing to help us," Nines offers.

"I appreciate it, but I'm not doing this to help you. I'm doing this to get a small semblance of justice for her. She deserves at least that," 

And with that, she walks off, her hair scraped into a ponytail. Tina heads out the door, probably to head up stairs to narcotics, back to the monotony of a job. Gavin closes the file and gives it back to Nines, and he stretches his arms out above him. He's in need of some air, to clear himself of the constant way his brain works while on a case, even a new one. 

"Heading out for some air. I'll be back in a couple of minutes,"

"Stay safe out there, detective,"

"You think I'm gonna get myself hurt standing outside a police station?" Gavin chides, giggling to himself. "They call androids smart. Guess they got that bit wrong,"

"I'm the most advanced android ever built. Don't underestimate me,"

"Alright cool it Mr Pretentious. You're smart, there. Acceptable?"

"Always," 

He turns and walks out of the precinct, letting the warm morning hit him, envelop him. The sun lies hidden beneath the buildings surrounding him, but it burns bright, burns through the desolate atmosphere that sometimes comes with living in a city. The loneliness, even as you're surrounded by people. The grime, the mess, the danger. Gavin paces down the alley to the right of him. It's quiet there, or at least as quiet as you can expect an inner city alleyway to be.

His jacket insulates him against the damp nature of the alley he stands in, the brown contrasting against the red brick. Something old against something even older. Gavin has no idea how long the precinct has even been around for, why they haven't changed anything about the exterior since it was built all those years ago. It stands as a testament to the 20th century, to the past. 

Gavin Reed is a man who enjoys the 20th and early 21st century a lot more than anyone else. He misses the huge hair of the 80's, how society changed toward acceptance. This reminds him of his childhood more than anything, about the mornings he spent watching Elijah try and do a flip on the trampoline they had, or when mum took them to Six Flags that one time. But it also reminds him of all the times he's fucked up.

The first time he tried drugs, the first time he ignored his mum's phone call. The events those led to. 

Gavin watches everyone outside the alley go about their daily business. "They could all be dead tomorrow, like Sam," he thinks, brain filling with the memories of her corpse, and of his mum. But we don't talk about what happened to mum, not at all. He will never talk about what happened to her. There are some couples, walking together hand in hand, a father and daughter crossing a road and someone out for a run. It's like any other day in Detroit. 

He can feel the air start to get warmer, the jacket slowly becoming less and less useful to wear. Gavin pulls out his phone and checks the weather.

77 degrees today. Not too hot to handle, but definitely not in need of a jacket. 

As he begins to walk inside, Nines comes into his line of sight at the end of the alley. He is really fucking tall, Gavin notes and walks up to him.

"Why are you out here?"

"I came to check on you, to make sure you were still available to head to the scene later,"

"Why do we need to go to the scene?"

"Forensics found something that should be worth us checking out," he replies, coolly. It's almost disconcerting how much Nines makes it sound like gruesome murder is just an everyday part of his life. That none of this will impact him.

Well it can't impact him can it? He is an android after all, they don't feel emotions like humans do. 

Right?

The pair of them walk back inside, Gavin shucking off his jacket as the pair of them get back to his desk. 

"Ready to go?"

"Ready as I'll ever fucking be, tin can."

He leaves the jacket on his desk, next to a small collection of amethyst crystals. What can Gavin say? He likes the way amethysts look. How they reflect, how the purple light refracts around the glass on the desk, how the light scatters, like light in a prism. 

"Do you have a car?" Gavin says, "I ran to the scene last night,"

"I do, come on. I'll drive,"

"Thanks man,"

Nines' car is just like him, cool, calculated, a little pretentious. It's a Tesla, unsurprisingly, considering Nines looks like he's made of money. How he has that much money though shocks Gavin, a detective's salary isn't nearly enough to cover living costs in the inner city. 

"Nice car,"

"Thank you, it was a gift from Elijah Kamski,"

"Elijah gave you the car?"

"Yes, I don't know why," 

Gavin steps into the passenger seat of the car. It smells of mint and sandalwood for some reason, it's nice. At least it doesn't smell of whatever new cars smell like, because that makes Gavin feel sick. 

The pair of them drive off into the morning's rising heat. Sun streams in through the windows, casting shadows across their faces. 

It's an August day, an August sky.

Gavin's heart thaws a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the link to Technique, and I could ramble on about how much I love this album, it's too long to fit here. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. Also, expect edits to the earlier chapters, mainly for grammar and tense changes, nothing too big.
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/album/6HQo3byKYGsHxOqofRmgCh?si=FB3MqGlSQ-qTUoDqABEmDg
> 
> Thank you for reading, have a lovely day.


	5. Catalyst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They say arguments create better friendships. 
> 
> Do they?
> 
> What about relationships?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloha everyone!
> 
> Chapter 5 is finally here! It's quite a bit longer than the other chapters I've published so far, clocking in at around 6800 words or so. Arguments are shared, Gavin sees red (or not?), and Nines has a conundrum with a jacket. Small Imperfections also hit 340 reads, which is absolutely outstanding. I thank you all, again. Hopefully this has brought a little spark of joy to your day. Chapter 6 is going to hopefully be a little slower paced than these other ones, but no promises. Love and appreciate you all, stay kind, stay safe.
> 
> Buses, yubuchobap and sofas,
> 
> Positive
> 
> PS. I've been watching a lot of criminal minds, and the amount of inspiration it's giving me is unreal. See you in the end notes.

### Chapter Five - Catalyst

Water begins to drip down the side of the car windows. The sun hasn't grown in its warmth, and has instead been matched with the soft grey of a long day. It's still warm, somehow, like the sun has almost decided to tease the world with one thing and reject them instead with another thing. It's sad, yet happy, yet at the same time, neither at all. It's almost depressing in its uncertainty.

Nines is driving, hands gently resting on the wheel, as Gavin looks out onto the streets surrounding him. They're old and new, just like back at the precinct, a city clinging on to its heritage in a way that fits it perfectly and abnormally. His eyes refocus on the soft trails of rain on the window, marks of a cycle to be repeated for eternity. Water becoming gas, becoming water, becoming gas again.

Nothing ever truly changes, does it? 

"What are you thinking about Gavin?"

"Nothing much really. Why do you ask?" 

"No particular reason. You know, studies show that good colleague relationships can decrease stress, which may be beneficial in a high risk environment with volatility like this," 

"Volatility...yeah yeah whatever it is you say tin can. Where the fuck did the sun go?"

"The forecast this morning predicted a warm morning, with rain coming in for the afternoon. It should hopefully clear up by the evening,"

"So you, with whatever junk Cyberlife pumped into you, can't just predict the weather?"

"No, I cannot. It would be an interesting thing if I could though. You'd never be without a jacket, like you are now,"

"Oh shit. My jacket," Gavin says, as he pictures the jacket he left on the desk. It doesn't have a hood, but it would be better than nothing, right? At least his arms wouldn't get wet. His skin is waterproof though, as mum always said. 

Traffic is slow, as the pair of them near the scene. Technically the pair of them could have walked, but knowing Gavin and the way his cases normally go, the scene wouldn't be the only place he would be visiting today. The coffee has kicked in his nerves, and he's generally alert, which may be a blessing or a curse. It's hard to tell sometimes. At least he'll actually be able to make some sense of what's going on and the case should progress, without any interruptions. 

Nines rounds the corner to apartment block, which is this time filled with the...FBI? Why are they there?

"Do you see this, tin can?"

"Yes I do."

He pulls the car up to park alongside one of the FBI's cars outside. Whenever the FBI comes a-crawling, so does a slime-ball by the name of...

"Perkins. The bitch,"

"I can tell that you and Agent Perkins have had some history. I will do my best to accommodate the both of you, but I cannot make any promises that I will defend actions that are detrimental to the investigation, understand?"

"Yeah, just, you know, drag me away if I start beating the shit out of him."

Gavin Reed and Alexander Perkins have a love/hate relationship. The pair of them can acknowledge each others proficiency in their respective fields, and can work together, once in a blue moon. But any other time, they hate the shit out of each other. Perkins despises Gavin's attitude toward his superiors, and the way he will go out of his way to make other people feel bad if it suits him. Whereas Gavin despises how much of a slime-ball Perkins is, his hair, his egotistical, narcissistic attitude. They can work together, on occasion, but you can bet that their partnership comes fraught with insults and transgressions. So to meet again at the scene of one of Gavin's closest friends (which is saying something) makes his blood boil, his thoughts to turn to acid, his mind fill with unquestionably disgusting ideas.

"Yeah, we hate each other. What else is there that you need to know?"

"I will keep that in mind. Let's go, before we starve to death here in the car,"

"A joke? From you? I never thought I'd see that,"

"It was hyperbole, detective. Not a joke, despite the humour that hyperbole can sometimes bring,"

"Right, you've ruined it."

Nines' eyes shine as he laughs to himself. He steps out of the car and paces over to the gaggle of people around him, Gavin close behind him. His hair starts to shimmer with drops of rain, like a spider's web in the morning, as a fly lies caught in a never ending net. Gavin's hair, brown in comparison to Nine's black hair, lies relatively dry beneath the soft grey fabric of his hoodie. Flannel, hoodie, jacket, the perfect clothes for a generally reclusive man, no?

At least it keeps his hair dry, that's the best he can do for now, even as the water begins to soak into the soft material. 

"I haven't seen Perkins yet, so don't let me run unto him, understand?"

"Understood detective, go inside, I'll meet you in there." 

He looks down into Gavin's profile as he says those words, and Gavin looks back at him, a little perplexed if anything, a moment of quiet.

"See ya then, don't let the water fry your circuitry,"

"That isn't-"

Nines is cut off when he notices that Gavin is already gone, halfway in the door by the time he looks up, tufts of mousy brown hair peeking out the sides of his hoodie.

DET. REED: Bad fashion taste, but it is one that matches his personality. 

Gavin walks up the stairs, as Nines heads to find Perkins, whom he presumes is the one leading up whatever it is that the FBI are planning here.

"Special Agent Perkins?"

"Yes? Who the fuck are you?"

This response reminds him of someone. I think you can guess who, dear reader. 

"You are leading this case, are you not? I'm one of the detectives assigned to the case, alongside detective Reed, who I have been informed you have worked with on occasion,"

"Yes, him. Why was he assigned to this? We all know he's emotionally unstable, so assigning him to something like this just seems...a touch out of character, does it not?"

Nines' face steels a little, his eyes becoming just a little aggressive. His brain processes his actions. Why is he being protective? What does he have to gain from this? Anything?

"I can assure you, Gavin is more than capable for this case. He has some of the highest levels of closed cases in the entire precinct, and is more than good enough to handle a murder, which, as should seem fairly obvious, _to a FBI special agent no less_ that it is something he has seen on many occasions. Do not underestimate him, simply because you have a less than satisfactory experience with him," 

"Just to interrupt your little heartfelt speech there, this case may end up becoming FBI property,"

"Why? Is there a federal need for it?"

"We have grounds to believe that this case is part of a larger spread of gang related violence across states,"

"This is the first I've heard of it. Which states do you mean?" 

"There was a murder in Philadelphia, one in Seattle and one in New York City,"

"That's not states...but whatever. How do you know that they were all connected?" 

"All of them had deep cuts and lacerations in them, as well as being closely related to a person within law enforcement. The victim in Seattle was the wife of a District Attorney, the one in Seattle was the son of a detective and the one in New York was the friend of a judge."

"Interesting, thank you for your time agent. I look forward to a good working relationship between the DPD and the FBI. Have a good day,"

"Eh, before you go, I have a message for whatever it is that your pet project for Reed. Tell him I say hi,"

"You can do that yourself agent,"

Perkins' face hardens, as he seems to steel himself for a scathing attack. Perkins is known for his caustic words, like Gavin. In any other universe they could be a match made in friendship heaven. But not this one. The blue of Perkins' eyes shoot ice into Nines' face, daggers into his eyes, lies into his heart. He fucking despises Gavin, and doesn't even want to be near him, let alone interact with him. 

"Oh fuck off,"

"Gladly, agent."

Nines turns on the balls of his feet and follows in the general direction that Gavin went in, and starts to climb the stairs, yet slightly different this time. He goes up them not to looks for the the case, but just so he can make sure Gavin is dry. 

_Do your duty, now. The detective doesn't matter._

His HUD flashes angrily at him, informing him of precisely how he is meant to be feeling in this moment, how he is meant to act, what he is meant to say to achieve his goal, and only his goal. That is all he can do. 

Dear reader, Nines is not deviant yet, and this is a fact he keeps hidden. He can't figure out how to get past his incessant coding, how to get past what makes him so artificial. He attempts to hide it with short quips and funny comments, but he can't continue like this anymore. He can't continue like fraud in the tax system, like a thorn in a pruned bouquet of roses. Nines' behavior is unnatural to him, even by an android's standard, but he just can't figure out why, his eternal problem, his words without their meaning, his ways without their strife. 

His skin clasps the stinging metal of the bars.

There were a few things that were failed to be mentioned to Nines as he was given into the world, a sacrificial lamb to the heavens.

He can feel pain, every burning nerve, every slice of the soul.

It breaks him inside, sometimes. Sometimes he becomes at peace with it. 

When Elijah Kamski began the RK line, all those years ago, they were intended to be effortlessly human, effortlessly integrated with the rest of society. Markus is designed to be a leader, Connor designed to negotiate. Yet it is hard to determine what Nines is designed for specifically, whether the grays of his eyes are designed to be those of a carer in a hospital, or the last thing a man looks at before he dies at Nines' hand. Nines was never told his purpose either. He is, in respects, even more human than the others around him for that reason. He has to make his own purpose, his own meaning in life, his own ideals and projections for the future.

A god, brought down to human, level, a Daedalus to our Icarus.

Daedalus survives.

Icarus doesn't, in the story at least.

What about this one?

Nines retracts his hand from the rail, feeling how the skin on his hand is cool to the touch, how it slightly shimmers underneath the surface. The stairs lie grey, a darker grey than his eyes in concrete. It's depressing, even more so than the night before, Nines can imagine. His fingers drop water onto the floor, his hair shines like a mirror reflecting insecurities. He continues his way up, mind flooding with those same insecurities. 

'Why am not good enough to know my own purpose?'

The doorway lies open again, less so then the night before, and Connor isn't here. On that note, Nines hasn't seen Connor all morning, an odd occasion. Probably just doing the right thing by taking some time off. He needs it, more than most. 

"Detective, I have some news. Where are you?"

"In here tin can, what is it?"

Gavin steps out from the bathroom, still damp from the pelting rain outside. The jacket really would have been useful, even Nines remembers that it smells of coffee for some reason. Gavin's hair has thankfully moved from its rather stuck up place earlier in the morning, to one that is more...what's the word? Manageable. A single rogue curl lies over the shine on his forehead, out of place with the others, matching him perfectly. Standing a little to the side, Gavin waits for Nines to meet him at the entrance.

"Any news detective?"

"You're the one who wanted me to come here for a reason, so of course there's fucking news,"

Not wanting to be taken advantage of, Nines adopts to ignore that, "And that news is?"

"They got a DNA match for some of the hair that was left. It's an old friend of Sam's."

Nines' head fills with complexities, confusions and other questions. Was Perkins lying to him about the gang attacks? He can't have been, considering loads of the other agents are here. None of this makes any sense anymore. Nothing is going to help make his head work right. When he looks at Gavin he feels sick, when he looks at the cleaned up apartment, he feels even more sick. Androids shouldn't even be able to feel sickness, just a uncomfortable feeling in their chest, like their thirium has been tainted with poison. It's a nasty thought to consider.

"Great, thank you. Couldn't we have just gone to the forensics lab for this instead?" Nines wonders aloud, as he presumed when he got the message that the item they needed to check out was something that was immovable from the scene.

Unless the whole point was to draw Nines and Gavin out to get ambushed by Perkins.

"I don't know either man, we could have just ignored all of this. Any other news about the scene?"

"Not as of right now, but I'll make sure to notify you,"

"Why was Perkins talking to you earlier, back downstairs?" Gavin asks, eyes dropping to the floor, "Why does he want you?"

"Nothing much really, just the FBI needing more detail from the scene, as these could be linked to a series of gang killings across the country,"

"Gang..killings? What are you? Fucking playing with me?" 

"Detective I wouldn't lie to you, and yes, gang killings. Sam herself wasn't known to have any correlation with gangs in the area, so it is still unsure to me why she was targeted, but she was, so we need to continue searching that lead."

Nines leaves out the arguably most important factor of what Perkins told him.

'For Gavin's sake,' Nines mulls in his head.

"Great, great. That works,"

"Perfect. We can head back to the precinct to head up on some work, if you'd prefer. Or, we can catch up with some of Sam's family members and neighbours,"

The scuffling of feet behind him indicate that a grouping of people are behind him, pushing Nines into an uneasy state. He spins on the balls of his feet to greet them with a death stare, one that could match even Gavin Reed's worst. It's Perkins, his face slimy with arrogance, it is disgusting, both subjectively and objectively.

"Agent Perkins, what a pleasure to see you. do you require the use of the apartment?"

"Yes, now politely go away," Perkins returns, arrogance dripping from every syllable he spits out. Nines does not take a liking to this, as one can imagine. 

Gavin looks over Nines' shoulder to where Perkins is stood, and his veins course through with anger, volition spitting daggers with his eyes. Gavin wonders to himself about the likelihood of him getting suspended if her were to strangle Perkins right then and there. Wait, wouldn't that just be murder? Eh well, murder sometimes is the best thing you can do.

"Reed, long time no see,"

"Same can go for you dickwad," 

"I see you haven't changed much then. Again, that doesn't surprise me. You always were an asshole to work with. Maybe it would just be worth leaving you idiots here at the DPD to work on it. Then again, if they say a bunch of monkeys with typewriters will eventually write the works of Shakespeare, maybe, with enough time, you'll be able to solve this case,"

"It's a pleasure to have you here as well agent," Nines interjects, stepping more squarely between the two. He can already sense how this interaction is going to end, thus assumes that it's probably the best to break it up before it even begins. You know, be on the safe side. Keep people safe, keeps jobs intact, keep some form of peace. It's kind of ironic that Gavin's job requires him to 'keep the peace', but he's the one having to be controlled otherwise the peace would be very much broken. 

Then again, contradictions are Gavin's best friends. 

"I'm not taking orders from a fucking android. I can work with you, just don't tell me what the fuck to do. Got it? Or you really will be scrap metal,"

"I'm not-"

"What did I say?"

Nines purses his lips into a thin line, LED falling into a soft lemon yellow. 

_If someone gets hurt here, this is your fault._

"Shut up," Nines mutters to himself, a whisper barely audible, "You aren't making things any better,"

 _Have it your way, but Amanda is going to be happy with this._

"Tin can what did you say?"

"Nothing detective, don't worry about it," he says, turning to the rest of the apartment, eyes sweeping to find the forensics team. They've gone, replaced with unsightly navy windbreakers, adorned with 'FBI'. 

Perkins picks up on this, eyes burning holes into the back of Nines' plastic skull. "The FBI are going to be reviewing the scene from now on, we will let you know when you can get back to it. Though, I wouldn't be too worried about that. , cause i doubt this case will be your jurisdiction for much longer,"

"You what, prick?" Gavin hisses out, and boy is it a nasty sight to behold, the sharp, poisonous words seething from his every pore, every fibre of his being. 

"Oh, my sincerest apologies for not informing the resident asshole of the DPD. This case is connected to a series of murders across the country; gang ones, I'll have you know. One of the officers mentioned downstairs that you and the victim were friends, correct?"

"The fuck is wrong with you?"

"So, the case is going to be out of your hands. It's such a shame that you can't get some closure for you, and the victim,"

"Her name was Sam. Sam Park. Use her fucking name. She was my friend," he says. Gavin can feel his sadness, his grief, pour over into his words. Any more of this and he will almost certainly be breaking down in front of the two people Gavin most definitely doesn't to be breaking down in front of. What an embarrassing day it will be. 

"Aww, what are you, scared?"

"Scared of what?"

"Scared of being offended,"

"No, shut up,"

"You were scared when Hank died. Yes, I heard. My deepest condolences,"

They say you see red when filled with anger, that your mind turns off, that you forget everything. That you are consumed by nothing but the blinding white of it all.

That isn't the case here.

Anger to Gavin is like water in an empty lake, serene and untouched.

Until you throw a bus into it.

The water crashes and thrashes, like a child having a tantrum. Water droplets fly everywhere, soaking the trees and the surrounding people.

"Detective?"

These words don't register in Gavin's mind, for his eyes are focused solely on the ever-so punchable face of the under-loved, underdeveloped prick stood in front of him. He takes a step forward, another, like someone else did all those years ago. His hands twitch, ready to smash his face in, let the blood drip into his mouth. 

Nines watches his silent, but obvious transformation, which speaks volumes in it's animosity. A soft red glow begins to permeate the side of his face, as Nines raises his hand in front of himself, holding Gavin back. Reasoning with him seems like a bad idea, yet it is the only one that could possibly work, for now. He needs to get inside his head, an easy feat if Gavin was to be a android, but he isn't. He's human, so perfectly human.

It makes Nines feel sick again.

"Go away Nines, and don't tell anyone about this," Gavin glowers in return, eyes unfixed on Nines, the daggers in his soul not pointed toward him, for now.

"Gavin you know I can't do that, you know I can't let you do this." He turns to face Perkins. "You better get out of here, go back to the precinct or something, you'll get hurt,"

Perkins' face drops, fear becoming visible and he heads over to the bedroom, as far away as he can get. It only seeks to fuel Gavin even further. He looks like he enjoys this, to Nines. 

DET. REED : Dangerous? 

"Let's go detective, there isn't anything for us here. You need to calm down," Nines says, hand remaining on his chest, keeping him just far enough away to stop him from getting to him. A contingency plan of sorts, a contingency he keeps to keep himself, and more importantly the others around him safe.

Nines can feel pain, but fear is another beast to him entirely. He can just about keep it away, for he cannot feel the feelings he needs to, thanks to his restrictive, suffocating coding. Nines is a replaceable being, to an extent. He could always drag himself back to Elijah, and beg for repairs, not that he ever will. Nines wasn't ever meant to exist in the real world, apart from the purpose he has yet to understand, yet to comprehend.

"Let me get to him. Let me teach him some of his own fucking medicine. Let me go, asshole,"

"You know I can't do that," he responds, hands moving to clutch to his shoulders, securing him to the floor. 

_Don't let him go, keep calm, keep controlled._

Nines can feel his processors warm beneath the plastic he encases himself with. They work on overdrive to get this situation to a modicum of control. Deep grey eyes watch as the other officers stand off to the sides, muttering and whispering among themselves. Common gossip, Nines assures himself.

_Reprimand him. Make him suffer for delaying the investigation. Make him know how he has treated you with disrespect. Ruin him for it._

_**Destroy him.** _

Nines scratches those notifications from his display as he drags Gavin out the door of the apartment, to the top of the stairs.

"Gavin shut up for one moment in your life and let me think,"

"What? The famous fucking android over here needs time to think, how fucking sweet."

Nines' eyes shoots him with a look filled with agonizing malice, making even Gavin's anger filled frenzy calm a little. That's how Nine's intimidation works, makes people want to crawl out of their own skin. Make them question what makes them be in the need to be intimidated in the first place. Make them disgusted with themselves.

All through a stare. 

Nines continues to drag him down the stairs, clutching the damp fabric of his hoodie with enough force to stretch the material. The metal of the railings are untouched this time, as he just focuses on getting Gavin out of the building, out of sight, of everyone else's minds. Gavin does nothing but follow behind his tugs and his pulls, not losing the acrid looks of destruction from the corners of his eyes, the pure hatred lining his face.

The outside continues to soak itself in rain, not that either of them care at all though. They weave and slip trough the incoming officers, all eager to get their hands on another case. It saddens Nines a little, in only a way an android can be sad. His LED spins a soft combination of red and yellow, as he attempts to calm himself down. Opening the door out to the front of the block, Gavin stiffens in his grip again, preparing himself for the onslaught of rain he is about to receive thundering down on his face. 

"Hey tin can, aren't you going to get fried out here?"

"No detective, I won't," Nines says, voice softening a little in his words. Gavin, in contrast, just stares at the ground.

"Gavin, what on earth were you doing inside? You know we have to work with him for the rest of the duration of this case. Why are you so god damn hostile?"

"Hostile..you wanna fucking know why?"

"Yes, indeed I would. It would be beneficial to understand past transgressions, so we can move forward and be more synergistic together,"

"Oh fuck off, you ignorant piece of shit, and understand sarcasm for once in your pitiful existence. If you really give that much of a fuck, go read my file. Do not make me do anything for you, ever. You understand that?" 

"That is acceptable,"

"It better fucking be, or you'll be shipped off to whatever fucking hole you crawled out of in a box of parts,"

"I'll take your word for it detective," 

Gavin scoffs at this, anger ever just starting to dissipate from his eyes. The emotion it is replaced with is a hard one to determine. 

"Want to continue working?"

"God fucking no,"

"You are contractually obligated to, you already know this," 

"Can you fuck off and just die?" 

And with that, Gavin storms off, hair shining with water. Nines hasn't even noticed the water permeating it's way through his own clothes yet, seeping it's way beneath his sleeves, down his neck. It's an uncomfortable feeling. 

_Go after him. Finish the assignment._

'Brain, what fucking assignment do you even mean?' Nines ponders, as he pulls his shining white jacket closer around him, in a feeble attempt to shield himself from the weather. It doesn't work very well, as his LED slides back to a yellow. He starts to make the walk back to the station, perhaps Gavin will turn up after him, so they can keep working on the case. 

It is their job after all. 

The streets of Detroit feel foreign to Gavin as he watches behind him, wondering if Nines is following him. He's walked them hundreds of times in his life, going to work, visiting Sam, getting groceries. Not so much walking away from a disrespectful twat with too much free time on his hand, but then again, the past few days have been some of the weirdest in his life. 

Little does our Gavin know, dear reader, that things will get a lot more complicated.

Water pools in his hair, flattening it across his forehead. The rain is warm, like a shower after a long day. It coats everything it touches, leaving it slick. Gavin's mind calms as he walks, faster and faster, to get away from everybody else. He needs to be alone, just how he likes it. How he always has, and always will like it. For this is how it has to be, this is how it has to end.

It has to end with him being alone.

Our Icarus has to be alone when this ends. 

Gavin is walking home, his one place of sanctuary against it all, against the endless, crushing power his life yields. He'll get back, probably get drunk, crash in his bed and cry himself to sleep. His grieving hasn't even set in yet, and that will be a sight to see when it does. Nobody will hear from him for days, as the walls he is so careful to maintain come crashing down, as they have done before, and as they will do forever. 

Nines, on the other hand, leaves without so much as a word to any of the remaining officers left outside. He too needs to get away from people, get his head straight; get it functional again.

_Go back, go back, go back, go back. Do it now. Do it._

_Amanda will know._

"Fuck Amanda," Nines whispers into the rain soaked air around him, and he hopes that nobody has heard it. 

Nines hates Amanda, with the same passion as Gavin and Perkins. She is designed to keep him in tow with whatever Cyberlife throws at him. Whether that be pulling him apart limb by limb, testing his components until he can't physically produce a word anymore, or subjecting him to constant shutdowns and restarts. It is torture, in its clearest form. 

But Amanda's acrid, vile, patronizing voice persists through it all, even as the pit of hatred within Nines' core opens up even further.

These are not what 'obedient' 'functional' androids are meant to be like, but it is what Nines is like anyway. He feels broken inside, at war between his programming and his morals. Between what is right and what he must do. Between humanity and apotheosis. Between becoming the 'God' he needs to be for them, and the human he craves to be.

Apotheosis.

Icarus.

Daedalus.

When you mess with the Gods, who comes to find as you fall further within? 

He goes to find his car again, where they parked it not too far from the scene. In an ideal world, Nines would offer Gavin a drive back home, but it is only when he turns back, that he can't see Gavin at all. Nevertheless, he gets back in the car, and drives away into the day's sky. The roads are quiet, the rush hour traffic having dissipated a little while ago. Every day there seems to be less cars out, as more and more people choose to use public transport. Gas has never been more expensive. 

Gavin continues to get soaked, as he spots the apartment come into view. 

He walks inside, and heads up the stairs, just wishing he would be anywhere else than where he is right now in life. On a beach, goals forgotten, relaxed, alone. At a theme park, losing his anxieties under loops and spirals. In a quiet house, as rain drips from the outside, shielded from everything else. 

Gavin wants to create the latter today, he needs the latter today. 

He unlocks the door, and walks into his living room, crashing onto the sofa. It's as comfortable as you can expect it to be, a couple of cushions lying with the grey fabric of the sofa. Gavin steals the red blanket he keeps folded on the side, and wraps himself in it. All there is to hear is the soft drops of rain on the window, and Gavin turns to face it. 

And he waits, and he watches, for god knows how long. 

Back at the station, Nines goes back to doing what he does best, working. He works on trying to find a match for anyone Sam had been in contact with, figuring out where the person named on the. He could really do with Gavin there, even if he is an asshole to work with. He's just..good at his job?

Nines hates giving compliments. 

He spots Gavin's jacket lying on his desk, without anyone to wear it. 

DET. REED: Return jacket?

Gavin walks over to the kitchen, where his hastily left ingredients still lie. The chili lay on the counter-tops. the oil lies cold in the pan, and the tomatoes lay in wait of something. Gavin resolves himself to making the chili, and give himself the warm thing he's been craving for so long.

So he dices, slices and chops. Pours the tomatoes into the pan, adds the chili. Browns the meat. Does anything he can to get his mind away from grief, not that he would acknowledge this to himself that is. 

Gavin is good at lying to himself.

He remembers how Sam taught him to make rice, washing it, using his knuckle to figure out the correct amount of water. It brings back fond memories of him, Sam and Tina all crowded into their his kitchen for the mid-autumn festival, cooking together (more aptly Sam and Tina cooking while Gavin chatted to them). Sam made yubuchobap to remind her of her parents, while Tina made hotpot and got mooncakes for them all to share. They'd pile around his tiny table and eat and laugh until they tired themselves out.

They were fun days. 

But fun days don't last, so it seems. Gavin serves himself the chili, whilst dolloping sour cream on top as well, as he sits down, alone this time and eats.

Later, as the bowl lies empty and finished on the table, Gavin takes a shower.

Warm water steams up the bathroom, as we meet Gavin again. He sits at the floor, feeling for the drops hitting his back, engulfing his emotions. He thinks back again, for the second time in the evening.

_"Hey T, make sure you and Sam call me when you get to the cinema, okay? Just so I know you arrived safe,"_

_"Gav shhh, we'll be fine," Sam teased._

_"I know you will, just don't do anything I'd regret,"_

_"So everything then? Cause you seem to regret everything you do,"_

_"Oh shut it Sam, let's get going," Tina joked, blowing a kiss to Gavin as the pair of them walked off._

He sits, and the tears start falling, falling like dewdrops in the morning sun, falling like rain after a drought.

Falling like they need to, salt intermingling with water, anguish mixed with remembrance. 

A song drifts in through the speaker he keeps in the bathroom, no lyrics, no words to contain any meaning at all, just notes to encapsulate, rejuvenate, syndicate. 

Now playing;

Tropics - med monk.

He cries further. Cries until his eyes lie red and puffy, until his lungs heave for air, until he passes out in the shower, as the water trickles down the side of his face. 

Time passes, and an August day turns into an August evening. Ribbons of red and orange flood through the windows, painting the walls in shades serene. 

Gavin awakes, and gets himself into some form of a more reasonable state, an old DPD hoodie and some black sweatpants to match the level of comfort Gavin needs within himself right now. He curls back in on himself on the sofa, hugging a pillow close to the chest to soothe the aching hole in his chest. The rain still continues on, though less violently this time, just a soft drizzle to refract and reflect the light, which scatters itself across the walls.

It's calm, with only the tumultuous events recollecting themselves in Gavin's head to slice though them. 

He dozes off again, curled in a blanket, arms entwined around a pillow.

As the day falls to night, Nines appears at the door of Gavin's apartment, arm clutching something that needs to be returned. He takes it all in, that being where Gavin lives. It's dark, a little damp, but in a nicer part of town than he expects Gavin to be living in. He still doesn't know why he's returning the jacket to him, it isn't part of his protocols to do so. He could have simply left the jacket in Gavin's locker, so that he could pick them up in the morning, or whenever Gavin decides to make a reappearance into the world of the DPD.

But he didn't, he chose to figure out where Gavin lives, thanks to an answer from Tina, and drove over there to give it to him. 

None of it makes sense, and with that he knocks on the door, plastic against wood.

Gavin awakes again, slightly irritated as to how someone is bothering him, as he paces over to the door. He peers through the peephole, and much to his chagrin, it's the plastic dickwad and his resident LED.

Nines's LED is blue.

"Bastard," Gavin whispers to himself, as he pulls the door open. 

"Gavin, sorry to be bothering you this evening. I have something that needs to be returned to you,"

"That is, douchebag?"

"Your jacket,"

"Oh,"

Gavin looks down to where the jacket is neatly folded over Nines' arm. The faded colour of it is a sharp contrast to the pristine, almost pressed white of Nines' standard issue Cyberlife garbage. It looks unnatural, like it's dirty.

"You know, you should just wear normal clothes,"

"My clothes are perfectly acceptable for the job, are they not?"

"Yeah, I mean, they're fine tin can, but you look like more of a prick then you already do,"

A small smile tugs at the corners of Nines' lips as his ears process what he just heard. 

_Stop._

'Shut up brain.'

"Do you, wanna come in or something?" Gavin asks, widening the door a little.

"That would be appreciated Gavin, thank you,"

"Yeah sure whatever,"

Gavin watches as Nines allows himself into the apartment, his eyes trying to analyse everything they find, everything they can see. To try and make sense of who Gavin is as a person, what drives him to be who he is. His eyes move over the posters, his plants, the dishes in the sink that Gavin needs to clean. They move over to the sofa, the scrunched up blankets, the pillows an how they're squished against the sides. 

Gavin just stares, a little perplexed at how intrigued Nines seems to be at the way he lives. At the way humans live?

Gavin tries to live the life of an average person, keep his head down, do right by those who deserve it. Yet, he has always found himself delving straight into lives filled with mystery, as he works to help them. He finds himself ensnared by the vices it is so easy for a man to fall into. 

There is something poetic about the relationship between a man and drugs, they way they dance and intermingle. The way they always seem to find a way back to each other.

Like people, they are never gone for too long. 

"What are you thinking about?"

"What Gavin?"

"What do androids think about? Way up in their processing system or whatever it is that Cyberlife calls it?"

Nines ponders this, brow creasing just a little, "We don't think, we do our protocol, as is dictated by someone, but in my case, the protocol I use is the one that is most likely to help us with the case,"

"Huh, so you don't have free will?"

"Free will?"

"Don't worry about it...can I have my jacket back now?"

"Of course," Nines says, throwing the jacket to Gavin, which he catches, before setting it down on the arm of the sofa.

"I swear man, they make you the most advanced android, and they can't even get you to remind me of where my jacket is,"

"That isn't a protocol of mine, I am not designed to protect you,"

This is a lie, for nines made the choice himself to protect him. 

"But still, you'd think..."

"Yeah, you would indeed,"

"Yeah? yeah? Look at you, really starting to use normal people speak. God damn it man, it's taken you long enough," Gavin look up at Nines again, and notices that his hair is dry.

It's also messy, like he's been asleep. A weird thought, considering that Nines is not one to be in need of sleep. 

"I am just using the resources in my capability to more accurately assimilate into a working environment, Gavin. If you are uncomfortable, I can stop,"

"No! No I'm not uncomfortable, it's just odd that's all,"

Nines looks at him, and they both stare into each others eyes, though neither of them really register that they are until Gavin looks away. 

Nines feels sick again.

Gavin feels hot.

"I'll be heading off now, Gavin. Have a lovely evening, and I assure that you'll be in the precinct in the morning?"

"I'll be wherever I am, understand?"

"Of course,"

Nines pulls open the door and leaves, while Gavin hangs the jacket up behind the door, lingering on it for a moment longer than he normally does. He doesn't know why, more like he just..does, because he wants to.

Nines reaches the bottom of the stairs, and he can hear a small notification pop up in his HUD,

WARNING: Artificial material located in thirium stream.

'Huh? Wait that can't be normal, can it?'

He dismisses the notification as his mind begins to fizz over, becoming unclear, unknown.

The notification pops up again, more loud and urgent this time.

His LED is a deep shade of blue, with lavender hues sprouting through. It's unnatural.

_This is your fault. This is what this going to do to you. This is your fault. This is what this is going to do to you._

The LED becomes a sickly shade of neon purple, as Nines walks slowly back to his car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that's chapter 5 done and dusted. The title is not borrowed from a song this time, but is instead inspired by Mirrors Edge Catalyst, my favourite game of all time. Here's a link to Catalyst, the theme of the game, and an absolute banger.
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/track/0l8bSoBGZqcoKv5INJxCCy?si=_i2KrrjXQa27AJbgbyqDKA
> 
> And here's the link to Tropics, a song that makes me feel some shit.
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/track/5YXEA8PZPo4PuXvAFpQ5VB?si=Gb8mQVlYSUqD8KSaS24qaQ
> 
> Thank you for reading, and have a spectacular day.
> 
> (pssst. pssst. hope you liked the ever so small amount of fluff (?) at the end.)


End file.
